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He touched me in a way no other possibly could. He could sense my emotions, and act in a manner that would change my mood for the better. He knew if I wanted companionship, exercise or just to lay down. If I needed to be cuddled, he was there for me, actually pulling me in towards his hairy, smooth chest. His strength, inner and outer, was incomparable, as was his zest for life and longing for fun. He loved to play with balls, too, which I didn't mind at all.

You see, I am a male. And. I can honestly say that I did not see this wonderful relationship coming, it literally came out of nowhere. Sometimes, when you are affected by the death of a loved one, it seems that your life has been torn apart and that you will never get over it. For months after he died, hit by a speeding car driven by a police officer who had just left work, and who was driving over 50 miles per hour in a triple-school zone (3 schools on 3 of the 4 corners at the intersection, a mall at the other corner), I could not see myself with another love like this in my life.

Buck was amazing, perfect in every sense. He really did know what my feelings were, without asking, as he wasn't able to actually ask. No, I am not gay, and this is not what you may have thought. You see, Buck was a prize-winning Golden Retriever, and he was killed on his second birthday, on our way back from buying him a one-inch thick T-bone steak for the special occasion. He had dark red curly hair, with long fedders and was 110 pounds when he died.

Many of you are probably now thinking, "this writer is off of his block", or much worse of me, and for that I hope that you someday experience the emotional and physical connection that I had with that dog. Without really training him, I could tell him to go get the football, and he would muster about the house until he found his Pittsburgh Steelers football. I could tell him to "stand guard", and if anyone came by, he would snarl, show his teeth and make their presence being unwelcome quite well known. If anyone raised their voice at me, and I became nervous in any way, he would get as vicious looking as a King German Sheppard on steroids.

I have lost my big brother tp Lou Gehrig's Disease, or Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), and he lasted 10 years. 10 years of wasting away, from a vibrant, energetic, proud and intelligent man, to a man who could not do anything without assistance. My father died of COPD, a lung disease, and my mother of small-cell cancer. Shortly after my mother

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